


Angel's Life in Five Acts.

by elisi



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Metaphors, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 13:45:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisi/pseuds/elisi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a boy stood on the edge of a wood, and the wood was thick with trees. (Angel's life told in metaphor.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel's Life in Five Acts.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea and first 4/5 of this was written by the_royal_anna. Thank you again for letting me play with your story!

Once a boy stood on the edge of a wood, and the wood was thick with trees. But the boy did not care for trees. He saw only wood, wood that he could use to make what he wanted, and he looked about for an axe.

Beside him there was a gleam of light, and there stood a girl with golden hair.

"Where am I going?" he asked her.

"To your Destiny," she answered.

"Where's that?" he demanded.

"On the other side of the wood," she said, "Beyond the trees."

"I'll be so lost," he said.

"Here," she said, and she handed him a ball of string. "I'll hold on to my end, and I won't let go."

The boy set off through the wood, and branches lay thick across his path. He snapped them off with his bare hands, and soon his hands were gouged with scratches and splinters.

"Stupid fingers," he said.

As he walked on he felt the string start to pull against his fingers, grazing his hands still more. It pulled him onwards, try as he might to stop. It was a puppet string, and wherever it pulled, he followed.

"Stupid string," he said.

Eventually he came to a clearing, and there stood the girl with golden hair, beside a pool of silver.

"Where are we?" he asked her.

"This is the Pool of Truth," she told him.

"My hands are hurt," he said, holding them out to her.

"They're made to hurt," she said, as she took them in hers. He felt her breath wrap around his neck, and she took his head between her hands and bent his mouth towards her breast.

After a while he lifted his head, and she turned him to face the pool. "This is what you are. This is why you fight."

He looked into the pool, and he saw nothing.

"I don't understand," he said.

"That's your reflection," the girl with the golden hair told him, and she traced his face with her fingers, and he did not know which was colder, her fingers or his face. "Vampire reflection."

 

_And the Puppetmaster's name was Pain, and the Puppet rose up and slew the Puppetmaster. "I'll take care of pain," he said. And the string wrapped around his hands._

 

Once a vampire stood on the edge of a wood, and the wood was thick with trees. The vampire thought to amuse himself by tearing the limbs from the tree nearest to him, but as he did so the tree shuddered so hard he felt it shake every atom in his body. And his arms grew heavy with the weight of the branches he had torn off.

Beside him there was a gleam of light, and there stood a girl with golden hair.

"Who are you?" he asked her.

"I am your Destiny," she answered, and he knew that she wanted to believe it.

"I don't have a Destiny," he said, bitterly.

"Let the Pool of Truth answer to that," she said.

"I'll be so lost," he said.

"Here," she said, softly, and she handed him a ball of string. "I'll hold on to my end, and I won't let go."

The vampire set off through the wood, and hid his face from the trees around him. He looked down at his hands, and they were covered in blood.

"Stupid fingers," he said.

He could not bear to be among the trees any longer, and he started to run, but he felt the string pull against his fingers. It was a kite string, and it would not let him loose.

"Stupid string," he said.

Eventually he came to a clearing, and there stood the girl with golden hair, beside the Pool of Truth. She held out her hands and drew him towards her.

"This is what you are," she whispered, and she kissed him. "This is why you fight."

As his fingers touched her skin he felt the blood racing through her body, and he forgot the blood on his hands. He looked into the pool, and he saw her, only her, and he wanted to believe it too.

But as he stared into the pool, mesmerised, he saw her skin was stained with handprints of blood, blood from his fingers.

And the soul was wrenched from him as the blood on his hands drained away.

 

_And the Puppetmaster's name was Desire, and the Puppet rose up and slew the Puppetmaster. "I'll take care of desire," he said. And the string wrapped around his heart._

 

Once a man stood on the edge of a wood, and the wood was thick with trees. Some of the trees he knew, and some of them he wished he didn't, for they were gnarled and broken, and he could not forget why.

Beside him there was a gleam of light, and there stood a girl with golden hair, and she held a child in her arms.

"Take him," she said, "I can't hold him any longer."

"Where are you going?" he asked her.

"I can't stay," she said. "I was here before. I'm done."

"I'll be so lost," he said.

"Here," she said, and she handed him a ball of string. "Give the child the end, and don't let go."

"Which end?" he asked

"You choose which end," she answered.

The man set off through the wood, and held the child close against him, but the child was crying, and the man could not make him stop.

He stroked the child's head, and caught the child's fists in his fingers, and still the child would not stop crying.

"Stupid fingers," he said.

The child went on crying, and held on tightly to the string in his fists. And the child pulled the string in one direction, and then another; sometimes pulled it tight and sometimes let it go so slack the man thought he would drop it altogether. It was a yo-yo string, and it pulled both ways.

"Stupid string," he said.

Eventually he came to a clearing, and there stood the girl with golden hair, beside the Pool of Truth, but she was so faint he could hardly see her through the mist. When she spoke her voice sounded faraway, like bells on a distant hill.

"This is what you are. This is why you fight."

And he looked into the pool, and he saw the child, their child. But the mist hung over the water, and the truth became harder and harder to see through the haze.

The girl with the golden hair held out her hands. "If you turn over the child," she said, "You can save the world."

But he shook his head, and stood firm.

"I'll save the child," he said, "If I have to turn over the world."

 

_And the Puppetmaster's name was Choice, and the Puppet rose up and slew the Puppetmaster. "I'll take care of choice," he said. And the string wrapped around his neck._

 

Once a puppet stood on the edge of a wood, and the wood was thick with trees. But the puppet did not see the trees. He saw only the wood, for from where he stood one tree looked much like another.

Beside him there was a gleam of light, and there stood a girl with golden hair.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

"I think it's a spell," he said.

"I know how this one works," she said, laughing, and she bent and kissed him on the top of his head.

There was a blinding flash of moonlight, and the girl with the golden hair was gone, and in front of the puppet stood a wolf, baring its teeth.

He ran through the wood, and the wolf chased after him, snapping at him with great, jagged teeth. He ran as fast as he could, but his little puppet legs made it hard for him to move at all, and he yelped with pain as he felt the wolf's teeth rip into his skin.

Suddenly a branch appeared in front of him, and as he took hold of it, the tree, which seemed to have bent in the breeze, swung upright, leaving the wolf howling in vain on the ground below. And when morning came, and the wolf had gone, the tree bent again and set the puppet back down on the ground.

The puppet took the ball of string that he still had in his pocket, and used it to sew himself back together, as best as he could.

"Stupid fingers," he said, "Stupid string."

He looked about him and realised he was sitting in the clearing, and there stood the girl with golden hair, beside the Pool of Truth.

"This is what you are," she said, and she smiled. "This is why you fight."

And he looked into the pool, and he saw the string that held him together reflected back at him.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Look deeper," she said.

And as he looked, he saw faces in the pool, faces that he'd thought he'd known, and yet, the deeper he looked the more he saw and the more he saw he'd missed.

"Stupid string," he said, but his voice was warm with affection and soft with tenderness, and he was grinning from ear to ear, as puppets are wont to do.

But as he watched the water broke into ripples, and the faces were lost.

 

_And the Puppetmaster's name was Destiny, and the Puppet rose up and slew the Puppetmaster. "I'll take care of destiny," he said. And the string wrapped around his soul._

 

Once a Champion stood on the edge of a wood, and he sighed deeply at the destruction his sword had wreaked, saving his child. But as he looked around he saw that the forest had grown, and he only knew half the trees.

Beside him there was a gleam of light, and there stood a boy with golden hair.

"Where did you come from?" the Champion asked.

"Been following you for ages now, mate!" the boy answered.

The Champion frowned. "Where are we headed?"

"Where do you think?" the boy replied, mockingly.

"I'll be so lost," the Champion said.

The boy smiled. "Just hold my hand."

The Champion did as the boy asked, but as he took hold of his hand he felt a string concealed inside, strong enough to fell a tree. And he recalled teaching the boy how to use it.

But the boy never let go of his hand, and together they set off through the forest. The boy, although sometimes a little unsure, never wavered, and didn't flinch when the tree roots caught his feet or branches whipped across his face.

"How come you know the way?" The Champion asked, and the boy shook his head sadly.

"Came this way looking for a girl. Found the Pool of Truth instead." And when the Champion studied carefully he saw that the boy's eyes looked as old as his own.

"Tried to follow the string I wrapped around my heart," the boy said, holding up his free hand, and The Champion saw that the boy's hands were bleeding too.

"Stupid fingers," the boy sighed, and pointed to the trees the Champion didn't recognise, many of whom had been broken and torn. "Stupid string."

And the Champion wanted to apologise, but the boy just shrugged and kept walking.

Eventually they came to the clearing. The Champion shook his head.

"I looked in the pool already, and I lost everyone," he said, and the boy smiled sadly.

"Me too."

The Champion turned to look at him. "Why are you here?"

"Don't you remember?" the boy asked. "You gave me your Destiny."

Then the boy pointed to the pool.

"This is what we are. This is why we fight."

The Champion looked into the pool and saw that the string holding him together was now wrapped around the boy as well.

But as he looked deeper the image changed and he saw that the whole world was a forest. And out of the darkness came a dragon - breathing fire; burning the trees.

The boy drew his sword and grinned. Then the Champion drew out his own sword again, and smiled at the boy.

"Let's go to work," he said.

And they went to slay the dragon.


End file.
